Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Did he?
“That’s great about your interview,” I say, knowing it’d be weird if I didn’t mention it. “So what next?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t accepted the job yet.”
“Oh? I just saw a picture on Facebook of you and your new friends at a bar. It sounded like you did accept.”
He groans and then there’s more noise filtering in through the phone, as if he took it away from his ear to check his Facebook feed. A second later, he curses. “I didn’t realize they posted that. Crap, everyone’s already seen it.”
Yeah, including me.
“So which is it? Did you accept or not?”
“It’s not official…”
His voice drops off.
Why are we doing this, prolonging the inevitable? It’s miserable being in this constant state of flux. Will he? Won’t he? Are we ever going to end up together?
Enough.
“I think you should take it,” I say, sounding definitive. “It’s a great opportunity and you’d regret passing it up.”
“Oh.”
He sounds surprised. Then finally, he continues, “Yeah…I guess so.”
It feels good to be the one who pushes us toward this decision, like I’m in the driver’s seat for once.
“So New York City, huh?”
“AIDEN! DUDE!” someone shouts into the phone.
I wince and hold it away from my ear, and then a second later, the call disconnects.
I stare down at the screen for a few moments, wondering if he’ll call back, and then I remember what he said about having a hard time reaching me all day.
Chances are, that was our one shot and it’s over now.
A lot can change in a few days. In fact, I suppose your entire life can go up in flames if you’re not careful.
I twist the key in the lock back at the condo and push the door open. It’s Sunday night, but the place is empty. I don’t call out to see if Aiden’s home; I know he’s not.
In the door to his bedroom, there’re a few boxes stacked up, already packed and labeled and taped closed. The writing on the side isn’t his.
In the morning, more movers will be here to finish doing the job of boxing up Aiden’s life.
He isn’t coming back to this condo.
This morning, he called me when I was about to leave the desert. The conversation was short and unexpected.
“They want me to fly out to cover the labor disputes and walkouts happening in Paris. There’s a foreign correspondent there already, but they need more journalists on the ground.”
I don’t remember what I told him, whether I sounded impressed or supportive. I know I didn’t ask him to come home, that’s for sure.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be over there, so I’m going to have movers come pack up my stuff. That way you’re not stuck with my crap everywhere.”
Yeah. Stuck.
We talked about our lease and whether or not I’d try to find another roommate. We talked about him covering his half of the rent until I found someone else to move in, and then Aiden’s flight was about to finish boarding. I heard them announce it through the phone. Final call.
“I gotta go, Maddie.”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell him bye. I couldn’t tell him the truth, not then. Not because it felt like it was too little too late, but because somewhere between Aiden first getting the New York Times interview and that moment, I decided I wouldn’t stand in his way. I know the type of guy Aiden is. He wouldn’t want to hurt me.
If I told him the truth about my feelings, he’d be caught between a rock and a hard place. Either he’d leave me high and dry to pursue his dreams, knowing I’d be crushed, or maybe he’d do the nice thing and come back to Austin to be with me. And then what?
Where would we be with Aiden keeping his old job at Texas Monthly, pretending that was enough for him and knowing full well he gave up the opportunity of a lifetime?
So I made it easy for him. I didn’t tell him the truth, and I didn’t tell him goodbye.
I pretended the call dropped, hung up, and shut the door on us for good.
Chapter Eleven
Aiden
’Tis the season to be jolly and all that.
Snow is falling outside. The soaring mountains I see through the fogged windshield of my rental car make it very apparent I’m no longer in New York City. My brother and sister-in-law purchased a vacation home in Vail, Colorado, a few months back. They invited me to join them for the holidays, and I couldn’t pass it up. It’ll be a whole week away from work, a week to relax and spend time with family I haven’t seen since I left Texas last year.
Our reunion feels long overdue.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic. I know Maddie is going to be at the house. I know because I asked my brother about it four different times.